Untitled Karofsky Fic 2
by Jhim
Summary: This is just something I threw together after watching Glee 3x13.  It takes place just after, and is not cannon.  Anything that happens afterwards  3x14 and onwards  will be not influence this work.  More might come, might be a one-off.


Opening his eyes, Dave's first reaction was the shield them from the garish light. He tried to sit up, but couldn't muster the strength. His head felt like it had been beaten with a hammer. "_How much did I drink last night?_'',he thought to himself. His eyes adjusting to the light, he began to take note that he wasn't in his bedroom; he was in a hospital room. Confused, he saw that his arms had been bandaged from wrist the elbow. His memory started to trickle back to him. BreadstiX, the rejection, and a member of his new school's football team witnessing the whole thing and calling him out on it. "You guys hanging out for Valentines day?", he could still hear ringing through his mind. He remembered driving to the state liquor store and using his fake I.D to buy a fifth of Jack Daniels. Not much was clear after that. He did remember taking his pocket knife out of his jeans, but that was the last thing he could recall before waking up.

He was pretty sure he'd tried to kill himself.

Had he written a note? Who had found him? He didn't know. He looked around the room and saw two chairs with a coat draped on one, which must have been his mom's. She wasn't in the room which meant she was probably out getting coffee or whatever. He didn't know what time it was. Looking for a clock, he found it on the bedside table obscured by balloons, some flowers, and a giant get well card. He wanted to read the card, but stopped short of reaching out for it- the I.V.'s in his arm weren't long enough to make it. He felt like shit and laid back down. He wondered how long he'd been out, and who found him. The staggered memories of last night kept playing through his head. It wasn't long before he was asleep again- morphine does wonders for restlessness. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the owner of the coat sitting in the chair; Kurt Hummel.

Of course; who else would wear a red cable-knit pea coat. Feeling shame, confusion, and a touch of excitement he stared at the object of his love, desire, and angst in skeptical disbelief. Kurt, who was reading some fashion magazine, looked fantastic as always, if not a little tired. Dave couldn't help but take notice that his usually expert hair looks a little 'flat', like he forgot to use product today; his skin, however, was white and flawless as always. Always one with an interesting fashion sense, Kurt wore a black vest with the words "hope" and "peace" embroidered down one side of it over a pink long-sleeved shirt. His pants had matching pink pinstripes, and his boots had the same color in the lacing and stitches. Dave couldn't help but wonder where Kurt's wardrobe budgets came from. Looking up, Kurt saw Dave gazing dumbfounded at him. Very calmly he put the magazine down and looked into Dave's eyes. Clearly agitated, he crossed his arms and with an icy bitterness to his voice asked, "So, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

So many questions and statements flooded Dave's brain... after what felt like an eternity, all Dave could muster was a sheepish 'hello'.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself, David?" Kurt began, "after you spend Gaga knows how much on pulling that ridiculously embarrassing Valentine's day stunt, you then write some sloppy long winded note, leave it on my doorstop, and try to** KILL **yourself while parked in my front lawn?" He paused for breath and smoothed his hair, visibly calming before suddenly shooting up out of his chair. He began to pace back and forth beside Dave's bed before continuing, "my father is a _United States Congressman_ for fuck's sake David. What would the media think if they found out? I can see it now: '_Congressman Finds Dead Gay Teen in Yard_.' Yeah, that would be fantastic, not to mention the emotional distress you would have caused your family and friends. And all you have to say is 'Hello'? Seriously, I don't even know why I'm here." He crossed his arms and looked away, fuming.

So there it was- the missing pieces of his memory. He'd gotten drunk, scrawled a letter detailing his life and feelings, drove to the Hudson-Hummel house, and did the deed out front in his truck. How could he have been so stupid? And of course it made sense Kurt was here. Like he said, his father is a congressman. Kurt was just doing some damage control for him. He knew he'd fucked up, but he still couldn't find words.

It was Kurt who broke the silence by finding something else to throw at Dave's feet. "You get us- your family and I, I mean- all worked up and left ME to explain what I knew to them. And yes, I did tell them about the kiss, the cards, the gorilla suit, and the other night at Breadstix. I mean honestly David . . . "

"Wait, what do you mean, 'the other night'?" Dave cut him off, confused.

"David, it's Saturday. You've been unconscious for four days. Your parents have been here the whole time, but today I told them I'd watch you since I don't have school, plus I feel it's partly my fault. I should have guessed it was you and just stopped it before it got this far."

"No." Dave said sharply, "It's not your fault. It's mine. I allowed myself to feel something that clearly wasn't there. I'm the idiot here, thinking that happy endings exist for people like me. You don't need to be here. You should be with Blaine, doesn't he have pink-eye or something?"

"His cornea was scratched. Don't you read Jacob Ben-Israel's blog? He's better now. He actually surprised me the other night at Breadstix, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway... what were you thinking? There is so much to live for outside Lima, Ohio. It gets better, David."

"Maybe for someone like YOU it does. You're popular, beautiful, nice, smart, and have a fucking future. What do I have to look forward to? Community college, at best, and a life time of blue collar work for shit pay. You're going to be living in New York with Mr. Perfect Anderson, singing in some Broadway show or whatever, and never even looking back on stupid little Lima, and especially not thinking of the chubby dumb ham-hock known as David Karofsky. So yeah, sounds like it will get SO much better."

"David, you can't make wild guesses like that. No one can see the future. Yes, I might be in New York; yes, I could be on Broadway; yes, Blaine might be there but none of this is set in stone. I'm 18 years old David, do you think I have my whole life planned out? Who am I, Rachel? No, it's crazy to think you can plan the next month, let alone the rest of your life. There are tons of people in this world David – gay people I mean – who lead remarkable lives; Oscar Wilde, Alexander the Great, hell even George Takei plays for out team. Not everything in life is High School. Not everyone is a monster. Trust me," he said crossing to the bed and taking Dave's hand, "it will get better for you. I'm here for you, David, despite our slightly sordid past," he said with a kind smile. "Don't you ever let me catch you doing something this stupid again. You've seen for yourself that there's people all over the place, even in the backwoods of Ohio, that will accept you for who and what you are. You'll find your happiness if you just stop looking so hard. Now, I'm going to have the nurse call your dad to let him know you're awake." And with that, Kurt was out of the room leaving Dave alone with his thoughts. He drifted back off again. Morphine is a hell of a drug.

The next few days were the same. Wake up, nurse takes vitals and changes dressings. He had cut himself pretty deeply, and the doctors told him it's a miracle he's still alive. If it hadn't been for Kurt coming home early that night, he would have bled out. It really made Dave wonder why Kurt was home so early. He had left (fled?) Breadstix fairly early, and based on what he could remember went right to the liquor store, but no matter. That wasn't important. Kurt continued to visit, sometimes with other Glee-clubbers, sometimes alone. He never brought Blaine out of what Dave assumed was respect for the situation.

It was Tuesday, one week after the, as his mother would put it, _accident_ when he was allowed to go home.

His schedule was pretty much set for the next few weeks. He had to go to counseling twice a week, and his parents insisted on an hour of family time a night. They didn't talk about it much, but they were very supportive. The high points of each week were when Kurt stopped by. He would come over every Wednesday and Friday just to see how he was doing. Dave's parents had a rule with their son about no girls in his room, but now that they knew they made a slight adjustment, so they had to hang out in the living room. Conversation was always friendly, usually centered on what Kurt was doing and the Glee Club. Dave liked hearing about New Directions. He remembered singing with them on the field before they won the game. He wished that Coach Beiste would have kept making them do that, but oh well. He told himself he would join Glee Club at his new school if they had one and try to pull a Finn, but they didn't.

After four weeks Dave was finally able remove his bandages for good and return to school. He looked at his arms. There on the pale underside stood identical bright pink lines running from wrist to elbow. Luckily it was Ohio in February, so long sleeves wouldn't look suspicious. Of course, come spring he would have to deal with it. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror and took a few deep breaths. Was he ready for this? Everyone would know, and question, and stare. He grabbed his backpack and headed off to school.


End file.
